Fall to Ruin One Day Outtakes
by sleepyvalentina
Summary: Drabbles and outtakes that would have never seen the light of day otherwise, posted in honor of various readers' birthdays.
1. Whatever They're Serving on the Plane

I don't own _Twilight. _

_I love you, Melly. But I've been drinking. Blame Kettle One if this sucks. I hope your birthday is amazing. This hasn't been beta'd. I realized there was a blog I didn't get to sign and felt like a douche. So I pulled this out of THE AIR (not my...you KNOW). I love the fuck out of you. Happy Birthday.  
_

-o-O-o-

The line to go through security is long. Surrounded by people, I work my way through it alone, mentally replaying the last time I walked these steps. Just when my fatalism overwhelms me—when I start to think maybe everything is the same now as it was ten years ago—a TSA agent reminds me I need to place my Docs and any electronic devices I may be carrying into grey plastic bins to be x-rayed. It's not a foreign concept to me—I've lost count of how many times I've done this before. It's strange only because I didn't do it then. It finally occurs to me ten years ago, there was no need. The last time I flew out of Washington was in 1999, when we'd never suspected terrorists would use airplanes to bring down buildings.

I stay on the hard airport seat long after I re-lace my Docs, just thinking. I know where Edward was when the Challenger exploded—that we'd discussed many times—but I have no idea where he was on September 11. And I want to know more than anything—after all, he's a patriot first and foremost. Knowing how that day must have formed him, I reach for my phone and dial.

"Is everything okay?" he answers, almost in a panic.

"Yes...well...maybe."

"I don't understand."

"I went through airport security," I say.

"Did they hassle you?"

"No, nothing like that. I had to take off my Docs." I paused, feeling like an idiot. "And the last time I flew out of DC I didn't, and it got me thinking how much the world has changed since then..."

He sighs. "I know."

"Where were you...you know...when the Towers came down?"

"Springfield, Illinois."

I'm unable to hide my relief. "Oh, thank god. I thought of you then, of Alice. I panicked. I wanted to call, but I didn't know how–"

"It would have been okay, you know? I mean, I would have been upset if you'd said, 'I just wanted to make sure you didn't die. I still hate you. Bye!'"

"I'd never..."

"I know," he says. "Even if it upset me, I would have understood."

"We wasted so much time," I tell him.

"I know."

"Never again."

"I won't let us," he says. "I promise. Now go catch your flight. I love you, and I'm waiting."

"Until I land?"

"No, Izzy. Forever."

"Promise?" I ask.

"I promise."


	2. Venti Latte, Skim, Triple Shot

_**B, **_

_**I wanted to do something for your birthday—that question on Twitter earlier? That was me fishing for ideas on what to write. Since you love this Bella so much, I thought you'd enjoy seeing her from another perspective. I hope you put something yummy in your Sharpie-decorated fandom flask (my handwriting and glitter nail polish for the win) and have a wonderful night. **_

_**xoxo,**_

_**Colleen**_

* * *

**Happy Birthday, Songster!**

* * *

**-o-O-o-**

I don't ow_n Twilight. _

This hasn't been beta'd.

** -o-O-o-**

**December 27, 1999**

Once inside Starbucks, I scan the tables. When we spoke on the phone earlier, Isabella described herself as "a nondescript brunette". There's a brown-haired girl sitting by the window, but she's too pretty to possibly refer to herself as "nondescript". Then I notice her foot twitching violently under the table. Given how nervous Isabella had seemed when she called me, this has to be her.

I walk over to her table. "Isabella? Hello, I'm Carlisle."

She falls off her stool. For a second, she seems surprised lands on her feet.

"I'm sorry," I say. "I didn't mean to startle you."

"You didn't." Smiling, she extends her hand to me.

I shake it, pretending not to notice she's trembling.

"What will it be?" she asks, angling her head toward the counter. "My treat."

"You don't have to do that."

"You didn't have to meet me in public."

"Venti latte—skim, triple shot."

"I'll be back in a sec," she says.

I watch her as she hurries off to order. Turns out her ass is every bit as nice as her smile.

A few minutes later, she returns with our drinks. She places them on the table then slides back onto her stool.

"I'm glad you were okay with meeting me for coffee before I look at your apartment. I mean, I know if I move in I'll be alone with you all the time. It's just I've never done this and..."

"It's okay," I tell her.

"No, it's kind of a pain in the ass—that's why I appreciate it so much." She sips her coffee. "Anyway, it's not as if I'm paranoid or anything. But my dad is a cop, and for as long as I can remember, I've been told never to go anywhere with strange men—not that I think I you're strange. I mean, in the ten minutes I've known you, several adjectives have gone through my head, but strange isn't one of them. Yummy and charming have, but the same could be said of the average serial killer."

It takes everything in me not to laugh.

"I'm not sure how to take that."

"Fuck," she mutters under her breath. "I can't believe I just did that."

"What, likened me to a serial killer?"

"No." She shakes her head. "Said you were yummy. Not that you aren't, but...shit. I'll shut up now."

"You're nervous. It's fine; I get it."

She squeezes her eyes shut, sighing. "Is it that obvious?"

"It's okay."

"I feel like such a tool."

I smile, trying to put her at ease. "You said you've never been on your own. And moving to a city where you don't know anyone is a huge adjustment."

"That's only part of it. As much as I hope we hit it off and you let me move in, the prospect of living with someone I don't know is scary. I mean, I did it my freshman year of college, but this is different because...well, you have a...you know. You know what I mean, right?"

"Was that English?"

"Ha ha. You're funny."

"No. I'm serious," I tell her.. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Sure you do. You know...that thing you have and I don't?"

"An apartment?"

"Not that."

"A job?"

"Uh-uh." She shakes her head. "Please don't make me say it."

There's only one other thing she could be talking about, and that's my cock. I don't think I could stop myself from laughing if my life depended on it.

"Don't make fun of me." She folds her arms across her chest.

"I'm sorry. You know, you could have just said it's because I'm a guy."

"In case you haven't noticed, I'm a little on edge here!"

Already, I want her to move in with me, though not because she's an ideal candidate. I'm worried what will happen to her if she doesn't. That I find her extremely attractive isn't a factor. At least—that's what I tell myself. When I look up from my cup, she's staring at me.

"You're so much like...never mind." She places her cup back on the table. "I'm ready whenever you are."

I am, too—for just about anything.


	3. HWC

**Happy Birthday, Sandi!**

**I hope it was fabulous.**

* * *

**I wanted to write something fresh for LJSummer's birthday, but since I broke my hand two days ago, writing isn't easy.**

**This was a scene I cut from the end of the first scene of _Chapter Nine: Beaujolais_.**

* * *

"You're not going to hurt it," he says, as if reading my thoughts.

"Well, not if you show me."

He tries to put my hand on his penis, but I pull it away.

"That's not what I meant."

"What, are you asking for a demonstration?"

"If you don't mind."

He wraps his hand around his shaft and starts to pump it up and down, twisting his wrist on each downward stroke. It's fascinating until I look up at his face, and as curious as I am about what's going on in his hand, but I can't tear my eyes away. His movements are making the muscles in his arms flex, and he moans each time he exhales. He smiles when he sees me looking, and I'm not sure if he's more into getting himself off or the fact that I'm watching him do so. It doesn't matter; his face is beautiful regardless.

"I'm close," he says, reaching for a tissue with his spare hand.

"Do it on me," I say, taking the tissue away from him.

"Huh?"

"I want it," I insist. "On me. Please."

Almost instantly, he closes his eyes and lets out a long moan. The white liquid on my thighs is warm and thick. For a while, I just stare at it—not because it's cum, but because of who it came from and what that means. Everything that makes him Edward is sitting there on my skin. In this way, at least, he's given me all of himself. I want to hold onto it, to know him completely. Impulsively, I wipe it with my fingers and bring them into my mouth, surprised it tastes bitter even though I shouldn't be. Alice had once likened the taste of jizz to "Killian's Red that had been left out in the sun for days and served warm", I thought Edward's would taste better. The reality is that it's every bit as nasty as she claimed, but that doesn't matter to me because it's his.

Then I see the way he's looking at me, and it makes me feel like a freak.

"Sorry," I say, staring at his comforter. "I guess you think I'm kind of weird–"

"No. Look at me, Isabella." His eyes are glossier than usual, with dilated pupils which only make the shade of green more intense. "You telling me you wanted my cum was the hottest thing I'd ever seen...well, until you tasted it."

"Hot?"

"Yes."

"Me?"

"Yes."

I laugh; I can't it help it.

"What's so funny?"

"I never thought I'd meet a guy who liked awkward–"

I stop talking. I have to; he's kissing me. Soon I'm on my back, and he's covering my body with his. The heat of his skin warms me through the thin cotton of my borrowed t-shirt, and though it's so much it isn't nearly enough. I tighten my arms around him, raising my pelvis to meet his. With only my panties separating my yin from his yang, he pushes against me as we kiss. Dizzy and starting to tingle, I shift my hips to the side.

"That's it," he moans.

His face is every bit as beautiful this time as it was before.


	4. Pride

**Birthday Gift #3. More on the way. **

**(What birthday would be complete without hearing from Carlisle?)**

* * *

**Late January, 2001**

My not-so drunken confession regarding my feelings for Izzy hasn't affected our relationship at all. Considering how awkward things could be under the circumstances, I should be relieved—and sometimes I am. Mostly, I think about the letter she slid under my door and how, thanks to her douche of an ex-boyfriend, she feels dead inside. It makes me crazy. I know I could help her, but I also know she'll never let me.

When Monday comes around, she's noticeably jumpy. At first, I pretend not to notice—I've overstepped enough boundaries in the past week where she's concerned. I start dinner the way I always do, but when I look up from the cheese I'm cutting, she's staring at me. We make eye contact for about a second before she blushes and looks away.

"Sorry."

"Why?" I ask, putting the knife in the sink. "You didn't do anything."

"I know. I think maybe that makes it worse."

I'm not sure what she's talking about—let alone what to say to her—so I offer her a piece of cheese. I expect her to pluck it out of my grasp, but she doesn't. Instead, she lowers her mouth to my hand and eats the cheese from between my fingers.

Her lips are soft against my skin. Forget dinner—I need her on my tongue. I want to spread her on the counter in front of me and taste her.

But I don't. I can't handle being rejected by her twice in one week.

"Do you like it?" I ask.

"Yes. In fact, I'd like to try some more, if that's okay with you."

I reach for another piece of cheese.

She shakes her head. "I'm not talking about that."

With her eyes are on mine, she takes my hand and closes her lips around my index finger. It's not the first time it's been in her mouth—when we cook together, she's always licking sauces from my fingers. Not once have I ever entertained the idea it was about anything other than food. What she's doing now is different, and not just because of the way she's using her tongue. There's a hunger in her eyes I've never seen—one that goes right to my balls.

"You have no idea what this is doing to me."

She releases my finger from her mouth but doesn't let go of my hand. "Then tell me."

I don't care if she thinks of me as her savior—she needs to realize I'm not a saint. Before I can think better of it, I press the palm of her hand against the front of my pants.

I expect her to hit me—given what I just did, I deserve it—but she doesn't. She doesn't even move her hand away.

Instead, she stares at my crotch then slowly raises her eyes to meet mine. "You want me?"

"Yes."

"Even after the way I flipped out last week?"

I nod.

"Seriously? I thought I'd ruined any chance I had with you. Most guys–"

"Good thing I'm a man."

Before she can say anything else, I pull her into my arms and kiss her. The mechanics aren't much different than they were last week, except this time, I'm not hesitant, nor am I gentle. Despite the fact she's stroking my dick through my pants, I know there's a good chance she's going to change her mind about this. I want to go as far with her as possible before she does. If this makes me an asshole, so be it.

"Carlisle..." she says, moving her lips away from my mouth.

"Do you want me to stop?"

"No. It's just...Shit, I don't even know how to say this."

As much as I don't want to do it, I move her hand away from my cock and rest it on the counter. Right away, I cover it with my own—who knows the next time I'll be able to touch her.

"I think it would be easier for us to talk if we weren't so distracted."

She lets out a small giggle. "Oh, I'm still plenty distracted. Carlisle..." She pauses, taking a deep breath. "If we do this...I'm just worried things will change between us."

"Izzy, last week I told you I was in love with you. I think it's safe to say they already have."

"I don't want to use you for sex."

I try not to laugh, but I can't help it. "I'll let you in on a little secret—it isn't possible to use a man for sex."

Her cheeks are red as she stares at the floor. "You know what I mean..."

Oh, I know exactly what she means. It's because of Edward, who despite destroying Izzy's self-esteem, somehow made her feel incapable of enjoying life without him—never mind the fact that by all accounts, he also made her incapable of enjoying life with him.

"...I just don't want..." She throws her head back, sighing. "I don't even know how to say this."

"Okay. Then tell me what you do want."

She looks me in the eye, and though her face is red, her voice is steady.

"I want you to take off my clothes."

* * *

**Thanks for celebrating with me. More on the way.**


	5. Clear Liquids Unabridged

This is the unabridged version of Chapter Forty-Three, for those who don't mind explicit non-canon sex.

For those who do, you've been warned.

* * *

**Chapter Forty-Three**

**Clear Liquids**

* * *

**January** **8, 2001**

Carlisle's barely looked at me since the bar the other night, and now is not an exception—his eyes stay focused on the countertop as I walk into the kitchen. We make eye contact for all of a second before he turns his attention back to prepping dinner.

"Interesting choice of attire," he says. "I was wondering where that one went."

I look down at my chest; I'm wearing one of his U2 tour shirts.

"Do you want it back?" I ask. "You said it didn't bother you–"

"It doesn't." He pulls the sharpening rod from the its block and runs it against the blade of the cheese knife with hard, quick strokes.

"I'm sorry." I don't know what else to tell him.

"Why?" He puts the rod away then leans on the countertop, sighing. "You haven't done anything I haven't told you it was okay to do."

"I know." I think back to last week and everything I wanted to do that I didn't.

He pours some honey onto a slice of Pecorino and offers it to me. As I raise my hand to take it, it occurs to me _talking_ isn't the way to go about this—what I need to do is _show _him I want him, but I just don't know how. With Edward, I almost never initiated sex—mostly because he intimidated the crap out of me. Sex was the one aspect of our relationship in which he usually didn't try to make me into someone I'm not; I didn't think I could have handled it he were to criticize my performance there, too.

But I can't imagine Carlisle doing that. If anything, he makes me embrace the person I already am—a person who, at the moment, wants to go to bed with him. I'm almost positive I'll fuck up telling him, so I'm left with no choice but to _show _him.

So I eat the cheese right out of his hand.

"Do you like it?" he asks.

"Yes. In fact, I'd like to try some more, if that's okay with you."

He starts drizzling honey on another piece.

I shake my head. "I'm not talking about that."

_Come on, Izzy. You can do this._

I raise his hand to my lips and suck his index finger into my mouth. He gasps and, though his face betrays his shock, he doesn't pull away from me. If anything, he leans a bit closer.

"Izzy..." he says, his voice breathy. "You have no idea what this is doing to me."

I release his finger from my mouth, but I don't let go of his hand. "Then tell me."

He presses my hand against the front of his pants. I can feel him through the fabric, and he's hard.

Even after I rejected him, even after I hurt him, even though I'm a total spazz, he's _hard._

"You want me?" I ask.

Nodding, he pulls his hand away. Almost involuntarily, my hand closes around him, my thumb brushing across the tip through his pants.

"Seriously? I thought I'd ruined any chance I had with you. Most guys–"

"Goddamn it, Izzy, I'm a man!"

The next thing I know, his tongue is in my mouth. Unlike last week, I don't panic and I don't run away. I kiss him back, marveling at the way his goatee tickles my face.

"Carlisle..."

"Do you want me to stop?"

"No. Oh, god, no. It's just...Shit, I don't even know how to say this."

He moves my hand away from his cock and lays it on the countertop, covering it with his own.

"I think it would be easier for us to talk if we weren't so distracted," he says.

"Oh, believe me—I'm still distracted. Carlisle..." I take a deep breath. "If we do this...I'm just worried things will change between us."

"Last week I told you I was in love with you. I think it's safe to say they already have."

"I don't want to use you for sex."

He laughs. "I'll let you in on a little secret—it isn't possible to use a man for sex."

"You know what I mean...I just don't want..." I sigh.

"What _do_ you want?"

I breathe in deep and focus on his eyes. "I want you to take off my clothes. I mean, if you want to..." I look down at the floor again. "Shit."

He touches my face and angles my head toward his.

"I want to," he says. "I want _you_."

I close my eyes and swallow hard. When I open them, I can't bring myself to look at him.

"Okay."

"Relax, Izzy. It's just me."

"I know—but before you, there was just him."

He presses his lips to mine; this time, it's close-mouthed and gentle. With one hand at the base of my neck, he slides the other under the hem of my t-shirt. When I feel his calloused thumb against my skin I stop thinking.

"And now?" he asks.

"What do you mean?"

He kisses from my mouth to my ear. "Who are you with _now_?"

"Only you," I tell him.

At the moment, it's true.

We stand there kissing and as close as he is, he's not close enough. I pull him tighter against me then lower my hand to the back of his pants. The waistband is elastic, and my hand just slides underneath. The skin on his ass is soft and hot and makes me want to feel all of him against all of me. Before I can take off his shirt, my jeans and panties are around my ankles and he's lifting me up onto the kitchen island. He kisses a path up my legs, his goatee brushing against my inner thighs, until he's kissing me _there. _He licks and sucks_, _and when I come, it's the kind of orgasm I feel everywhere. When my breathing starts to return to normal, he places a final kiss on my clit then lifts me into his arms.

"I'm sorry," he says. "I hadn't thought about how cold the counter would be."

"You're apologizing for that?" I ask, laughing. "I didn't mind. Fuck, I didn't even notice—at least, not until after...Can I say wow?" I reach up and brush my fingers across his goatee. "I felt this—you know—_there_."

"Why do you think I have it?"

My jaw drops. "Really?"

He shakes his head. "Now let's get you warm."

He's laughing as he carries me to his room and lays me down on his bed. I pull him closer and wrap my legs around his hips. For a while we lie like this—him on top of me with his head propped up on one of his elbows, a contentment in his eyes I've never before seen.

I free his hair from its ponytail, watching as it falls to his shoulders. He leans forward and kisses me. It's slow at first, playful. When I slide my tongue into his mouth, I taste what I assume is me. I'm still deciding how I feel about that when he starts pulling on my t-shirt.

"As much of a turn-on it is for me to see you in nothing but my shirt, it needs to go."

I don't know why, but the prospect of showing him my breasts makes me nervous. Then again, I was nervous showing them to Edward, too. I take a deep breath and raise my arms over my head. I fold my arms over my chest the second I feel cool air against my nipples.

I expect Carlisle to make fun of me for being weird about my boobs, or at the very least, to tease me about it. He's twenty-nine years old; most girls his age are more comfortable in their own skin. Who am I kidding? Most girls _my_ age are more comfortable in their own skin.

"Izzy..." His voice is tender. "I've seen them before, you know."

"The context was different. You didn't have to pretend you liked them."

He laughs. "No, I had to pretend I _didn't_ like them—or at the very least, that I didn't notice them—until I was back in my room where I could jerk off."

I roll my eyes. "Right."

He presses his lips to my cheek then kisses a trail down my neck to where my hands are covering my chest.

"I love you," he whispers. "And I wouldn't change anything about you." He tugs my hand away from one of my breasts, replacing it with his lips. "Not this..." As he sucks my nipple into his mouth, he pulls on my other hand. "And certainly not this." He gives my other breast the same treatment.

It's a strange thing—being naked beneath him while he's still fully clothed. If I were with Edward like this, I'd feel self-conscious, but here with Carlisle, I don't. If anything, I feel empowered and desired—but it doesn't stop me from wanting to see him naked.

"You're wearing too many clothes."

As I pull his shirt over his head, he strips out of his chef pants and boxer briefs. I've seen him bare-chested more times than I can count, but it's nothing like the sight of him kneeling naked between my legs. For a while, I just look at him—his sculpted chest muscles, his tattoos, the trail of golden hair on his chest that gets darker and thicker the lower it goes, the part of him that's hard and thick. He's different down there from Edward, and it takes me a moment to understand why.

"You aren't circumcised?"

He shakes his head. "Uh-uh."

I reach for it, but stop just shy of touching it. "May I?"

"Please," he whispers.

The extra skin feels strange at first, but it makes it that much easier to slide my hand up and down him. I use my other hand to pull his head toward mine. This time, when I taste myself on his lips, I can't contain my giggle.

"What?" he asks.

"I'm not used to tasting myself."

I let go of him down there and wrap both arms around his neck. He teases me as we kiss, almost entering me then pulling away, until all of a sudden, he's lying on his back on the other side of the bed. I wonder what I did wrong until I see him pull a condom from the drawer of his bedside table.

"Oh. You don't have to," I tell him. "I'm on the pill, and I trust you."

He shrugs. "I've never done it without one."

"I've never done it _with _one. Ed—" I stop myself. I don't want to say Edward's name while I'm in bed with Carlisle. "Uh, I was told it doesn't feel good."

"Trust me, Izzy. It's going to feel good," he says, tearing open the wrapper.

"But will I feel _you_?"

"I love that you trust me, but I love you too much to risk it."

I watch in fascination as he unrolls the rubber onto himself. When it's in place, he pulls me so I'm straddling him. Ever so slowly, I lower myself onto him. _God, how I've missed this._

From the beginning, he lets me set the pace. When I get used to having him inside me, I start to ride him harder. He flips me onto back and does this thing with his hips that changes the way he rubs against my walls. Slow and steady, he slides in and out, in and out. Somehow, he manages not to come until after I do.

A few hours later, we're at it again. As a lover, he's both skilled and generous, and he has a tongue that could make me forget about everything in the world.

Except Edward.

**-o-O-o-**

**December** **26, 2009**

Edward holds up his hand. "I'm not asking _anyone _to go _anywhere_."

"Fine." William pushes the door open and, looking at Edward, gestures toward the hallway. "After you."

Carlisle calls after them. "For real, Dad?"

He says the word _dad_ as if it's an insult.

"Out, Edward," William says, ignoring Carlisle.

_What does William think he has, a dog?_

"It's going to be like this?" Carlisle jeers. "I shouldn't be surprised. I mean in thirty-nine years, you've never called or come to see me. But now we're in the same room and you're looking at me..."

When William turns to the door, Carlisle starts to yell.

"For god's sake, look at me! Look at me and tell me you don't feel anything."

William turns to Edward. "I'll meet you in the hall."

Edward's eyes widen. "Please, sir. Don't. Believe me, he isn't going to–"

"Edward." William's voice increases in both pitch and volume from one syllable to the next.

"I'm not going anywhere." Edward folds his arms across his chest.

"Have you lost your mind?" William asks him.

"No, sir. If anything, I found my conscience." Edward looks at Carlisle; his expression shifts from defiance to empathy. "I'm sorry; you don't deserve this."

William glares at Sarah. "You know very well I don't play games. I'm not sure why you're here–"

She rolls her eyes. "William, your daughter went into cardiac arrest at my son's house. Carlisle and I gave her CPR."

"You just _happened_ to be there?" He laughs. "How convenient for you! Tell me: how much do you want?"

"I don't _want _anything."

"Right."

"Someone had to do something." She shakes her head, sighing. "I'm here because I care what happens to your daughter—that's all. I have no idea why you think I'd –"

"How much do you want, Sarah?" he repeats. "You must have a number in mind; you wouldn't be here if you didn't."

She doesn't flinch; her eyes remain focused on William.

"If you'd all excuse us for a moment," she says, "I'd like to speak to William privately."

Carlisle puts his hand on her shoulder. "Ma–"

"I'll be fine, Sweetheart."

His skepticism shows on his face.

"Really." Her smile is one of sadness and determination.

He glares at William. "I'll be right outside."

Once the three of us are out in the hallway, the door slams shut behind us.

After a while, Carlisle leans against the wall and sighs. "When your—I mean—our father asked you to leave, you said you were sorry. Why?"

"I knew what was coming," Edward says softly. "He's done this before."

Carlisle gulps. "So there are others? I mean, besides us..."

"I don't _think_ so."

"Then how did you know he'd..." Carlisle shakes his head. "I don't even know what to call what just happened in there."

"Bribery is part of how he operates," Edward says. "It usually works. Throw enough money at most people, they'll do anything..."

"Vote for anyone?" Carlisle asks.

Edward shrugs then offers him a sad smile. "Something like that."

Before I can ask him to elaborate, I notice one of Alice's doctors coming toward us. I search his face for some clue as to how Alice is doing and come up empty. If anything, he just looks tired. We probably all do.

I reach for Edward's hand. For a second or two, he leans against me. He takes a deep breath and approaches the doctor.

"Is there news?" he asks.

"Her condition is critical, but she's stabilized. We're still not sure what caused her to go into cardiac arrest. She's awake, and if you keep it short, you can see her."

Edward grabs my hand and starts pulling me down the hallway with him.

The doctor holds up his hand. "One person at a time and family only."

"Thank you," Edward says.

We take a few steps before Edward stops. He calls over his shoulder to Carlisle. "Are you coming?"

Carlisle looks startled. "Uh...no. I need to call Esme, and I should wait here. You know, just in case..." He nods toward the door. "Besides, my being there wouldn't make any sense to Alice, and she's been through enough today. But if there's news about her condition...you'll come find me?"

Edward nods. "Of course."

Before we turn the corner, I look over my shoulder at Carlisle to make sure he's okay.

He's smiling Edward's smile.


	6. Room Temperature Starbucks

_**for MeilleurCafe**_

* * *

Alice smiles when she sees me. "What, did they hassle you over the guitar?"

I toss what's left of my now room-temperature Starbucks into the waste basket. "Uh. No."

Though she's right about hospital security giving me a hard time, my guitar had nothing to do with it.

"What was it, then? Forty minutes to get here from the parking garage is kind of a long time."

I don't have the heart to tell her that her father—technically, _our_ father—blacklisted me and I had to get Edward on the phone before security would let me in to see her.

"My sense of direction is shit."

She laughs. "You know, there are apps for that."

Before she can realize I'm lying, I change the subject. "Any word on when they'll let you out of here?"

"Ugh." She rolls her eyes. "Not soon enough. If I'm going to stay cooped up in here, I may as well go back on chemo."

"Uh, yeah. About your whole going-off-chemo thing–"

"Don't you start, too."

"I'm not starting anything. I just want to understand."

Her eyes narrow as she studies my face. "If you had to pick one thing—you know, your one true passion—what would it be?"

I don't even have to think about it. "Esme."

Alice smiles. "Really?"

"This surprises you?"

"A little. Edward's convinced you're still in love with Izzy,"

"Of course he is," I say with a snort. "You know, you'd think a United States Senator wouldn't be so insecure."

"Not if it was insecurity that compelled him to become one—but let's not change the subject. About you and Izzy–"

"I thought we were talking about you and chemo."

"We _were_, but now we're not."

"What if _I_ still am?"

"I'm the one in the hospital bed," she says. "Humor me."

I can't argue with her logic. "Okay." I pull a chair up to her bed, laughing. "What would you like to know?"

"All of it."

"Visiting hours end at 8 p.m."

"So?"

"That's ten hours from now, and I was with Izzy for seven years, so..."

She rolls her eyes. "Don't be difficult."

"I'm not. I just don't see why any of it matters. I'm happily married, and she's..." I shrug.

"Don't stop on my account."

"I'm not going to go there with you. He's your brother."

"He's _your_ brother, too."

"Yes, but it's different."

"Come here."

She beckons me with her index finger; I lean forward, resting my arms on my lap.

"It's okay, you know," she says.

"What's okay?"

"That you don't like him."

"I don't _know _him," I say, laughing. "Kind of crazy, considering I lived with his ghost for so long. Ten years ago, I couldn't get Izzy to say his name out loud. Now he's all she talks about—at least, when she's not lecturing me on how I should give him a chance and start acting like he's my brother." I roll my eyes. "Because you know I've had so much time to adjust to all this–"

"Uh, excuse me?" Alice points to herself with her thumb. "Seventy-two hours. I win."

"Yeah, I'm sorry about that. It wasn't up to me."

"Oh, I know. I'm not sure why Edward thought I wouldn't be able to handle it. I mean..." She gestures to the hospital equipment next to her bed. "If finding out my father cheated is the worst thing I have to deal with this month, I'll count myself pretty fucking lucky."

"Right." I stare at the floor, trying to figure out how I can dig myself out of this one.

"What's wrong?"

"I'm not usually this much of an asshole. It's just that my mom has always placed a high value on honesty, and when I found out she'd been lying to me my entire life..." I sigh. "...but even_ that_ doesn't matter in the grand scheme of things..."

"Eh. There's always going to be someone who has it worse. It doesn't make what you're going through any less shitty."

"I suppose. Anyway, I don't have to like it; I just have to accept it."

"Words I live by. So William..." She points to my guitar. "Did you bring that here to tease me?"

Laughing, I pick it up and strum a few chords, remembering what she said on Christmas about liking songs that have her name in them. "You know I don't know any Debbie Gibson–"

She rolls her eyes. "Don't be a dick."

"–but I think you'll like this." I take a breath and start to sing:

_**"A screen door slams, Mary's dress waves**_

_**Like a vision she dances across the porch as the radio plays..."**_

Just as I start the last verse, the door opens. I look over my shoulder to find Izzy and Edward. He seems annoyed—maybe even constipated—but since neither possibility is of any concern to me, I ignore him and focus on Alice's smile.

"Can you do something for me?" she asks when I'm finished.

"Sure."

"I'd like you to play at my funeral."

"Now Alice," Edward says, moving toward her. "It doesn't _have_ to–"

She holds up her hand to him, but keeps her eyes on me. "Please?"

"Yes," I say.

She leans back into her bed and turns to Edward. "I'm trusting you to make this happen."

"Whatever you want."

"Good. Well, now that we've gotten that out of the way, I think I want to play some Scrabble."

* * *

"Thunder Road" copyright 1975 by Bruce Springsteen


End file.
